Just Call Me Fred Schneider
by SimplyLaurel
Summary: What if there was another werewolf at Hogwarts? One-shot.


**Author's Note** : Hello all. This concept came to me a few months ago and I wrote this out a few days later. I've fiddled with it and revised it to death at this point, so I decided it was time to go ahead and put it out there. One note, because I'm sure I'm going to get questions on this: thought I usually prescribe to the single-night full-moon cycle, I'm using the two-night cycle for this story. I don't think JKR has specified either way what type of cycle she uses, but there is one line in the films where Tonks says something to the Weasleys about how "the first night of the cycle is the worst." I'm combining that reference with what I've read about other-two night cycles that basically states that if the moon reaches it's fullest point during the daylight hours, werewolves would transform the nights before and after.

I do not own anything you recognize.

Happy reading!

Just Call me Fred Schneider

Remus climbed the circular stone staircase to Professor Dumbledore's office, tired after what seemed an endless first week back at school. He had just begun his seventh year, widely considered the hardest year of studies at Hogwarts, and he could see where the reputation came from. The pile of homework waiting for him back in his dormitory had already reached a surprising height, and that was with only one week of lessons behind him.

He hadn't been exactly thrilled to have his first chance at an undisturbed night of studying snatched away from him by this meeting, but he couldn't deny that he had been curious ever since Gary Gudgeon had caught him the night before to give him the small sealed scroll bearing a summons to the headmaster's office. The last time he had met with Professor Dumbledore had been in his very first week at Hogwarts, when the headmaster and Madam Pomfrey sat him down to explain the procedures put in place for his transformations every full moon. He wondered for a moment if this meeting had anything to do with those transformations, and his stomach gave a nervous squirm as it occurred to him that the headmaster had, perhaps, learned that Remus was having three of his classmates accompanying him to the Shrieking Shack every month for various highly dangerous adventures. But surely, he reassured himself as he reached the door at the top of the staircase, James, Sirius, and Peter would also have been called for this meeting if that were the case.

Remus knocked twice on the heavy wooden door and heard a call of "come in," from inside the room. He pushed the door open and saw that the office looked almost exactly as it had the last time he was there, six years earlier. The circular room was covered almost all the way around with bookcases. One side of the room had windows which opened to a view of the Black Lake and an edge of the Forbidden Forest, and the wall behind the headmaster's desk held dozens of portraits of the past heads of the school, all snoozing in their frames. Dumbledore was seated behind his desk, a long letter stretched open before him, and a quill and ink bottle standing ready beside it.

"Ah, Mister Lupin. Thank you for joining me this evening. Please, have a seat," Dumbledore said, with a welcoming smile that instantly told Remus he was not there to be reprimanded. He crossed to the desk and sat in the chair the headmaster was gesturing to. "I asked to speak to you regarding a rather delicate matter that I myself became aware of only recently. Not only do I believe you may have particular insight on this matter, it may well involve you for the remainder of the year, and as such, I do not want to make any decisions without consulting with you first."

"Oh," Remus said after a moment, quite unsure what else to say.

Dumbledore, however, did not seem to be looking for any more input at the moment. He leveled Remus with a steady look, his light blue eyes boring into Remus's own. "You may have heard rumors over the past few months that Lord Voldemort has been… _employing_ certain members of the werewolf community for targeted attacks, mostly on members of the magical community who are particularly prominent or outspoken against his message, and more specifically, among their children. To my knowledge, there have been two such attacks this past year, both involving one Fenrir Greyback."

Remus convulsively clenched his fist. His breath hissed out between his teeth. He recognized the name; Fenrir Greyback was the very same werewolf who had bitten and infected him as a child. Dumbledore watched him with a measured expression.

"I take it you recognize the name," he said, and Remus nodded. "Of those attacks, one proved fatal; I believe the target was a very young girl, and her injuries were too severe." Remus clenched his fist again, not sure why the headmaster had called him here to listen to this.

"The other victim, however, survived the ordeal. Moreover, they are a student at this school."

Remus let out a breath, surprised. "Here at Hogwarts? But I didn't hear any—wh-who is it?" he asked before he could stop himself.

Dumbledore gave him a small smile. "As I am sure you can understand, Mister Lupin, I am not at liberty to say. Not at the moment, at least. Though the attack occurred some months ago, I was only informed by the student's parents just before the start of term, as they wished to inform me that their child would need to take frequent absences for the full moons. I wish to give them another option."

The headmaster stared again at Remus, who gave a short nod, now sure he knew the purpose of this meeting. His jaw clenched, and he had to work to keep his expression light. He was being assigned babysitting duty. He was to take a fledgling werewolf under his wing and teach them how to be a good monster. And he understood. Under normal circumstances, he would not even have minded. He was a prefect, after all, and he generally enjoyed those responsibilities. It would't have been the first time he had reached out to a younger student who he thought might be struggling. But not only would monster-mentoring almost certainly eliminate any chance of his monthly adventures with his friends, he resented the headmaster's assumption that a shared affliction would automatically result in any level of bonding with someone who was likely just as uncomfortable with the werewolf lifestyle as he was himself (and likely even more so, being newly infected).

If the headmaster had any inkling of what was going on in Remus's head, however, he gave no indication of it. "I would like to inform this student and their parents that arrangements for the full moon can be put into place, and in fact already have been put in place, here at Hogwarts. But I wanted to ask you first if you are comfortable with my extending this offer. I will, of course, employ the same measure of privacy with your identity as I have done for your classmate, but if they accept my offer, the two of you will eventually have to meet. After all, we only have the one empty house connected by secret tunnel." Dumbledore's mustache twitched, and Remus was sure he was smiling again.

"So we would both be transforming in the Shrieking Shack?" Remus asked.

Dumbledore steepled his hands and leaned forward, watching Remus again. "Well, that was one of the questions I wanted to ask you. I have done what research I can, and my understanding is that it should be very safe; the Shrieking Shack is large enough that the two of you could avoid direct contact during your transformations. However, if you have heard differently or are otherwise uncomfortable with the idea, I may have to rethink my invitation."

Remus didn't answer right away. He didn't have any experience transforming with other werewolves. Before Hogwarts, his parents had kept him home in a room alone while he transformed. But he had heard stories of other werewolf communities – "colonies," they were called. And the stories he heard were usually ones of conflict and violence and snapping teeth. But that may have had more to do with the individuals themselves. Many werewolves, such as Greyback, seemed to have adopted violence as a way of life, which would surely affect their behavior during transformations. His own experiences over the past couple of years had taught him as much; from what he remembered of them, the transformations in his early life had been much more brutal than the more recent ones, the ones he'd had since his friends had discovered a way to accompany him. And surely someone young enough to be a fellow student wouldn't have been brought up in such violent conditions, and even if they did prove to have violent transformations, the two of them could just stay in the separate rooms in the Shrieking Shack. As for his less-than-warm feelings about his newly assigned companion, if he wanted to avoid any conflict between the two, it was best to start with his attitude.

"That should be fine, sir," he said, and Dumbledore smiled.

"Excellent, excellent. Do you have any other ideas or suggestions you would like to share?"

He paused, impressed by the headmaster's candor and the casual yet professional air in which he talked about a subject that so many, even his own parents, could barely discuss in anything other than the hushed murmur one might use when visiting a very sick relative. So if Dumbledore could be honest with him… "Can you at least tell me what House they're in?" he asked. It might be hard to be chummy with a Slytherin, even in wolf-form.

Dumbledore smiled wider than ever, his eyes twinkling as though he knew exactly what Remus was thinking. "I'm afraid not. Have a good night, Mister Lupin."

Remus got through the next weeks with mounting dread and curiosity. He told James, Sirius, and Peter what Dumbledore had told him, and about the idea of two werewolves sharing the Shrieking Shack, and his friends had been just as curious as him as to the identity of the other werewolf.

"I bet it's a first year," Sirius said one night as they got ready for bed, a week before the full moon. Remus had not yet heard from Dumbledore whether a decision had been made. "I'll bet they got their Hogwarts letter, accepted the position, and then got bitten and their parents didn't want to say anything until they thought it would be too late for Dumbledore to change his mind about letting them in. Man, they're going to _whine_."

"It might be someone older," Remus said, pulling the covers down and settling into bed.

"I thought you said this Greyback fellow liked kids, though. And the other victim was a little girl," James said from behind the curtains on his bed, where he was changing.

Remus snorted. "Well I haven't exactly seen his resume: 'Fenrir Scumbag Greyback, specializing in kids ages two to twelve.'"

Peter was watching them from his own bed, eyes wide with excitement. "You'll tell us who it is, right Remus?"

He frowned. "Of course not. It isn't my secret to tell. You haven't told anyone about me, have you?"

"Of course not, Moony, relax." James said, pulling back his curtains and straightening his glasses. "Your secret is safe with us. And you don't need to tell us who it is."

"Did anyone get a good look at this years' stock of first years? Did any of them look particularly traumatized?" Sirius asked. The rest of them ignored him.

James threw himself forward onto his own bed. "Guess this means we'll have to postpone our trip to the acromantula webs, then?"

"Probably," Remus agreed with a yawn. "I'm supposed to shepherd the next generation of friendly werewolves, or something like that; I probably shouldn't spoil my first opportunity by abandoning my charge on the first night."

The following Tuesday, the day of the full moon, Remus was still unsure whether he should expect company when he arrived at the Shrieking Shack that evening. Dumbledore had not requested another meeting or otherwise contacted him, so he made his way to the Hospital Wing alone. He felt privately relieved, even more than he expected, that he didn't have to play mentor so far: he felt awful, and he knew he looked it, too. Not exactly a shining beacon of what the ideal werewolf should aspire to be. So when he walked into the Hospital Wing to find Professor Dumbledore waiting for him with a pleasant smile, his heart sank.

"Good afternoon, Mister Lupin. I trust you are doing well, or as well as can be expected."

Remus managed a weak smile in return.

Dumbledore held up a letter. "I have just received the final decision from your classmate's parents, and spoke to them to further explain the procedure we will be following. I was just sharing the particulars with Madam Pomfrey. I wonder, would you mind making the trip to the Shrieking Shack a bit earlier than expected? We are waiting for your classmate to arrive so we can give them the remaining details."

"Oh," Remus said. "Er, sure. I can go now, if you like?"

"That would be excellent, if you're sure you don't mind."

Remus shook his head to indicate that he didn't. Madam Pomfrey bustled off to her office, gathering the usual provisions. She typically left Remus with several bandages and potions to prevent scarring from any cuts or bite marks he was left with when he turned back into himself in the morning.

"I'll speak with the house elves and see if they won't have dinner brought to you," she said as she came back out with a packed sachel on her hip. "And breakfast in the morning, as usual?" she gave him an inquiring look.

He nodded. "Sure."

After a few more moments, Madame Pomfrey hitched her bundle of cloth bandages and bottles onto one hip and marched forward to steer Remus out of the room and down onto the grounds. He knew by now that protesting and insisting that he could make it on his own were pointless, but all the same, he was quite glad he didn't have an audience for _this_ , at any rate.

As the day grew longer and Remus watched the sun sink lower through the gaps in the boards on the Shrieking Shack's windows, his heart began to hammer faster and faster. When the house elf arrived bearing a tray of food from the kitchens, he took it and set it down in the unused kitchen without even opening it to see what it was. His stomach was in knots. Not, he reminded himself, that it should be. Even if the other person, whoever they were, would normally look down on him because of his affliction, it was an affliction they themselves now shared. They were equals, as he saw it. Nevertheless, now that the hour was drawing nearer, he couldn't help being nervous.

The sound of approaching footsteps eventually drifted up to the upstairs bedroom he where he had been pacing for the past ten minutes, and he hurried over to the door and pressed his ear against it. He could hear hushed voices coming from the sitting room below, and he guessed that Madam Pomfrey and her new charge had made it out of the earthen tunnel. He listened as Madam Pomfrey murmured a few parting words of encouragement, likely the same ones she always gave him ("Have courage, dear. It'll only be for a few short hours. Everything will be alright."), and then her footsteps moving away, back down the tunnel.

 _This is it_ , he thought. _Time to meet his ward_. "Please don't be a first year, please don't be a first year," he whispered to himself, Sirius's warning about whining echoing in his head. Then, just as he reached for the door handle, a soft knock sounded from the other side.

He paused, then slowly turned the handle and opened the door.

It wasn't a first year.

It wasn't a Slytherin, either.

It was Violet Gardener.

And that was a problem for Remus. Violet Gardener happened to be a Gryffindor sixth year, she happened to be, in his opinion, the most beautiful girl in the school, and they happened to have casually dated for the latter part of the previous year before she suddenly stopped replying to his letters right after the summer holidays began.

"Oh!" they both said, at nearly the same moment.

"It's…you…" Violet finished, somewhat lamely.

"Yeah, it's…it's me," Remus said.

She dropped her gaze, and her pale cheeks colored slightly. Neither of them spoke for a moment, but continued to stare at the floor, avoiding each other's eye. After what felt like minutes, Violet spoke again. "I, er, didn't know you were a…"

"No," Remus agreed quickly. "Not many people here do."

"Oh," Violet said again, and Remus went back to staring at the floor. He chanced a glance up a moment later and saw Violet rummaging through the pockets of her cloak. Her dark brown hair fell over one ear in a thick curtain, hiding most of her face from view. She was still blushing. After a moment, she pulled out a small paper bag and held it up to show Remus. "I brought Wolfsbane," she said. She shook the bad and a dry rustling sound came from within. Remus gave her a blank look. "To make tea?" she added uncertainly. "I thought it would help, with the two of us being here together…"

Remus continued to look at her blankly.

"Haven't you ever had Wolfsbane tea before?" she asked.

He shook his head, sure that he was missing something. "What's Wolfsbane?"

Violet's blue eyes widened. "You've really never heard of it? It's the same plant as aconite or monkshood, and we use those in Potions. The flowers are called Wolfsbane. You make tea with the dried petals."

"' _Wolfs_ bane.'" He said, playing the word over in his head. "Is it just…tea to drink and enjoy, or is it for…?"

Violet made a face. "It's definitely not to enjoy. Smell it." She held the bag out to him.

Remus took the bag and raised it to his nose, then pulled it away almost at once, grimacing. The dry blue buds smelled quite disgusting; bitter and sickly-sweet all at once. He tossed the bag back to Violet, eager to get it as far away from him as he could, but the smell lingered in his nose.

Violet caught it and gave what Remus couldn't help noticing was the first smile since she arrived. "I know, it isn't the most appealing. But it helps, with the transformations, I mean. My dad is a herbologist," she said, by way of explanation.

"I know," Remus said. "You told me last year."

"Oh, yes." Her cheeks glowed pink. "Well, he read up on treatments after…well…"

She broke off, looking embarrassed again. Remus, mostly to keep the silence from spiraling, said, "So what does it do? That…Wolfsbane."

Violet gave him another shy smile, seemingly relieved for the chance to keep the conversation going. "Well, like I said, it's to make tea with. You drink the tea right before the transformation begins, and it makes you more… _docile_ I suppose would be the best word for it. Not exactly normal, but it's easier to sort of keep your head and ignore some of the impulses. I used it the past two months and it helped."

Remus nodded, interested. He'd never heard of Wolfsbane, though they had used aconite before (and he had rather thought it made his fingers itch, though at the time he told himself that he was imagining it). "And you have to drink it?" he asked again, wrinkling his nose.

"Yes," Violet said with a sympathetic nod. "And we should probably do it soon. I don't imagine we have a lot of time left." She gestured at the boarded-up window behind him. No light was coming through the cracks, and Remus guessed that the sun had set completely. They had perhaps thirty minutes before the moon came out.

Violet took a step back into the hall and looked down it in both directions. "Is there a kitchen where I can make it?"

Remus, momentarily distracted by the way her hair caught the light from the candelabra in the hall, took a moment to realize she had asked a question. "Wha—oh, yeah, it's down here." He pointed toward the sitting room below and led Violet down the stairs and through the house to the kitchen, which consisted only of an ancient looking stove, sink, a short countertop, and a couple of mismatched cabinets. Violet started looking through the cabinets and tiny connected pantry.

"Is there a kettle somewhere?" she called over her shoulder as she stood on tip-toe, trying to see onto the highest shelf.

"Er, I'm not exactly sure," Remus said, walking over to help her look. "I've never really tried to make anything here before."

Eventually, Violet unearthed an old and rather dented tin kettle from underneath the sink. She looked at it dubiously. "Do you have any idea how long this has been here?" she asked Remus.

He shrugged. "I've never used it, so probably not since the last owner of this house lived here."

"And that was?" She went from staring at the kettle to the rest of the kitchen with apparent interest.

"Probably the early 'fifties," Remus said. "Dumbledore told me in my first year that the house had been vacant for more than a decade before I started using it; that's how the school was able to buy it and build the secret tunnel: the owner sold it cheap because they just wanted to get rid of it. The school fixed it up a bit and keep it maintained, but it still only gets used once a month or so, and until now it's only ever been me here."

Violet nodded but didn't seem to have anything to add. The silence grew. "Do you want me to…?" Remus began, gesturing from the kettle to the sink.

"One moment. First…" She pulled out her wand, tapped the kettle, and muttered " _Scourgify!_ " Most of the accumulated grime vanished from its tarnished surface. She took off the lid and peered inside. "That's probably as good as it's going to get," she said fretfully, and held it out for Remus to fill. He walked to the sink and turned one of the taps. The knob was stiff and it made a high-pitched squealing sound as he twisted it. For a moment, nothing happened. Then, with a rumbling gurgle, cloudy, rust-colored water poured out of the tap, filling the room with the smell of must. He quickly turned it back off with a revolted noise.

Then, to his surprise, Violet giggled. He turned to her, staring. "You really never _do_ use this kitchen, do you?" she asked, eyes twinkling.

He shook his head, returning her smile in spite of himself and thinking, for the first time, that this may not be the horrible ordeal he had prepared himself for. "No matter," he said, pulling out his own wand. " _Augamenti!_ " The kettle filled with water. He gave it another tap and steam issued from the spout. Violet searched the cupboards again and found two chipped mugs, which she cleaned with magic before setting them on the counter and adding a pinch of Wolfsbane from the paper bag. Remus filled both mugs to the brim, and soon the pungent smell of the tea had filled the little kitchen.

Ignoring the reluctant look on Remus's face as he surveyed the two cups, Violet picked one up and carried it out to the small sitting room. Remus grabbed the other and followed her to the dingy couch, the only seat that was not yet covered in long scratches.

"So," Violet said, pulling her feet up onto the couch and cradling the mug in her hands, her eyes on Remus's face. "What do you usually do here?" She kept her tone light, but he thought he could hear the stirrings of trepidation.

Remus paused, using the time to place his own mug on the low table in front of them, and considered. Normally, he said goodbye to Madam Pomfrey and accepted her well-wishes, forced down as much of whatever the house elf brought him for dinner as he could, then waited for James, Sirius, and Peter to arrive in their animal forms. Then, after he transformed, they would sneak out of the house and explore the forest, grounds, and the outskirts of Hogsmeade. But somehow he didn't think that was the answer Violet was expecting, so he thought instead to the years before his friends had managed the Animagus transformation. "Usually I wait in the bedroom for the transformation to start. Then I just try to keep myself together as much as I can until morning." He wished he had a better answer for Violet; he knew that he should do whatever he could to comfort and reassure her, but there really was no way to cushion the reality of a werewolf transformation; it was painful and scary and horribly disorientating.

Something of his brooding must have shown on his face, because when he looked up again, Violet was watching him with tense expression that he thought must match his own. He opened his mouth to say something to reassure her, but nothing came to mind, so he picked up his mug and brought up to his lips. Out of the corner of his eye, he watched Violet do the same. Her hands, he was startled to see, were trembling.

He lowered his mug without drinking and reached out towards her, wanting to give her some measure of comfort, but not sure what he was going to do. But before he could reach her, Violet stood up, drained her mug, and put it down on the coffee table with a grimace. "Disgusting," she muttered, looking at the still-steaming mug. "Well, we probably only have a few minutes left. I'll just take the room down here, then." And she walked to the door by the bottom of the staircase.

She paused at the threshold and looked back at him. "You should probably drink the entire mug before it starts. Good night, Remus."

Then she closed the door. Behind it, Remus could hear her footsteps and then the creak of the bedsprings. His hand was still in the air, stretched halfway to where Violet had been sitting a moment ago. He dropped it and picked up his mug again. As he expected, the tea tasted quite awful, but he drank it dregs and all. Then, unsure what else to do, he walked back upstairs to his own room and shut the door. There were no sounds from Violet's room below.

The first thing Remus was fully conscious of the next morning was pain. He bit back a cry that was more of a howl and kept his eyes tightly shut as he felt the bones in his legs and shoulders slide back into place with many a snap and crack. His hands, human once again, gripped the torn bedsheet that he had dragged onto the floor at some point during the night and he groaned as his stiff limbs finally relaxed, leaving him in a crumpled head. He lay there for a moment, panting and sweating. He would have been quite content to stay there for the next few hours and try to sleep, if the sound of faint crying from downstairs didn't snap him back to reality. _Of course_ , he thought, _Violet would be changing back, too_.

Remus opened his eyes and saw a few lines of faint grey light filtering in from outside. The sun would not truly be up for another hour at least, but the moon had gone down for the day. It would not start to wane until the next morning, which meant that he still had a second night of the transformation coming, but with a day of respite in between. He didn't want to think about it.

Instead, he pushed himself into a kneeling position, ignoring the protest of his sore joints, and then used the bedframe to pull himself up until he was seated on the mattress. He could still hear quiet sobs from the other room. Suppressing another groan, Remus stood up and limped his way to the dresser in the corner and pulled on some pajamas, still too achey and exhausted to dress fully. By the time he made it out to the hallway and down the stairs, he could at least walk normally again, though he still felt very stiff.

He knocked on the door to Violet's room and the sobs stopped abruptly. He cleared his throat. "Violet? Are you alright?" he called.

There was silence, and it occurred to Remus that perhaps Violet wanted to be left alone. He was about to turn back when he heard a faint "come in."

He pushed the door open and saw Violet huddled on the bed with her knees pulled up and her arms wrapped around them. She was shaking. Her face was streaked with tear tracks, but he was relieved to see she was no longer crying. She avoided his eyes for a moment, then said in a voice so quiet he could barely hear it, "does it ever get any easier?"

Remus thought back to the early days of his transformations as a child – the pain and the fear – and he thought back to the previous night. "No."

Violet buried her head in her arms. Not knowing quite what made him do it, Remus walked to the bed and sat down, putting one arm lightly around her shoulders. "I know," he said. "It's horrible." She started to cry again, sobs that made her slim frame quake. Remus sat with her until she was done. After a few minutes, she lifted her head and wiped her eyes, taking a deep, shuddering breath as she did so.

He lowered his hand and made to rub her back, but she hissed in a sharp breath and flinched away. When he looked back at her face, he saw that she was grimacing.

"Sorry!" Remus said, worried that he had been too forward and offended her, but she opened a watering eye and looked at him.

"No, it isn't you. My shoulder…I think I…" Violet stopped and leaned slightly forward. It was only then that Remus noticed the odd angle of her shoulder blade.

"Oh," he said with a rush of understanding. "You probably dislocated it when you transformed back. That's happened to me before. I know how to fix it. Do you want me to…" He let the offer hang in the air.

After a moment, Violet winced again and said, "yes, please."

Remus shifted on the bed and instructed Violet to do the same. He gently took her opposite wrist and guided her hand back over shoulder. He shifted his grip to her hand and pulled it back slowly. She bared her teeth and furrowed her brow as he pulled, but a few seconds later he heard a sharp pop, and her face immediately relaxed.

"There," he said. "Is that better?"

"Completely," Violet said, moving her arm experimentally with a barely suppressed sigh. "Does that happen a lot? With the transformations?"

He shook his head. "It's only happened to me a couple of times. You can fix it yourself next time, the same way."

"Okay," Violet said. There was a pause. "…thank you."

Remus, realizing a moment too late that he had been holding Violet's hand the entire time, let go and pulled back his arm.

"So," Violet exhaled heavily, paused, and said in what she clearly intended to be a business-like tone. "What do we do now?"

Remus thought. "Well, usually a house elf will come down from the school with breakfast, not that I ever want to eat anything, then Madam Pomfrey will come to get me a few hours later, once the sun has come up. Though on days like this, in the middle of the full moon, I sometimes just stay here. It's easier than going to and from the castle twice in one day; easier to keep other students from seeing me and guessing about why I keep disappearing for the night, especially if my cover story is something that would have taken me away from the school for more than a few hours. Why do your friends think you're gone, buy the way?"

"I told them to I had to go home to visit a sick aunt," Violet said. Remus thought her voice still sounded rather stiff, but it relaxed a moment later. "So, I guess it wouldn't make sense for me to be seen up at the castle, right?"

"Right," Remus said, nodding. "Then it would probably be better if we stay here today."

"What's _your_ excuse this month?" Violet asked.

He shrugged. "I don't really have one. The only people who ever really noticed when I went away were the other Gryffindor boys in my year, and they already know about me. Now, if anyone asks, I just say I was ill."

Violet nodded. She looked as though she wanted to say something else, but she looked away and silence stretched between them. A minute later, they heard the sound of footsteps approaching the sitting room, and they stood up and walked downstairs just as an extremely tiny house elf emerged from the trap door bearing a covered dish and a pitcher of pumpkin juice. "Good morning, sir and miss," squeaked the elf. "I have your breakfast."

"Thank you, you can put it here," Remus said, hurrying forward as quickly as he could on his stiff legs and clearing a space on the kitchen counter for the dishes, which he took from the elf.

"Madam Pomfrey wished me to ask if sir and miss would like to return to the Hospital Wing or stay here today," the elf said, now walking over to retrieve Remus's untouched dinner from the night before.

"Stay here, I think," Violet said, grabbing the tray for the elf, whose tiny arms would surely only reach halfway up to the countertop.

The elf curtseyed and took the tray. "Thank you, miss! I will inform the matron." Then she bowed again and climbed back into the tunnel and out of sight.

They waited until the elf's footsteps had faded, then Remus lifted the lid off the tray to reveal a tower of toast, bacon, and scrambled eggs. "Er, are you hungry?"

"Not remotely," said Violet, "but I suppose I should make myself eat anyway?" She walked forward and took a plate from the tray and started portioning out the food.

"That's the spirit," Remus said, smiling. "You're getting the hand of this werewolf thing alr—" he broke off; Violet had flinched and dropped her fork. And he thought he knew why. "Oh, do you not use that term? I can say 'lycanthrope' if you'd prefer; I've just gotten into the habit of saying—"

"No, no, it's okay. 'Were'– 'werewolf' is okay. You just caught me by surprise. My parents and the Healers at Saint Mungo's used 'lycanthrope,' so that's what I'd gotten used to, is all." She looked self-conscious. Her cheeks were pink again, and she hurriedly bent down to pick up her fork.

Remus looked down. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to shock you, or anything. I just never saw any reason not to use the term. I know what I am, what _we_ are." He stopped again, watching her to see if he had offended her.

But she met his eyes and didn't look away. "I know. There's no point denying it. I was bitten by a werewolf. I am a werewolf." She took a deep breath and let it out with a _whoosh_. Remus thought she looked a lot more relaxed than he had seen her since the previous year. "Do you know, that's the first time I've been able to say that out loud?"

He nodded. "It can be a good feeling: acknowledgement. Acceptance."

Violet smiled. She truly did look more at ease than any other time that morning or the night before. "Exactly. Ever since I was attacked, everyone has been sort of treating me like I'm made of glass: my parents, the Healers, even Madam Pomfrey. The only person whose treated me like I'm the same person I always was, just with a new problem that needs to be managed, has been Professor Dumbledore. And you, of course. But I expected you to. I— I mean, I expected the other werewolf to, whoever it was."

Her cheeks were still pink. She turned back to the tray of breakfast, and Remus moved forward, picking up the other plate and grabbing some toast and bacon. "So, who were you expecting, or _what_ were you expecting, when you heard that there was another werewolf at Hogwarts?"

"I don't know," she said after a moment. "Not an underclassman, of course, since Dumbledore said that the arrangements had been in place for several years already. But I wasn't expecting it to be you."

"Why?" Remus asked, looking up at her again, curious.

Violet was watching him, measuring his reaction. "Because I thought you would have told me before, if it was you. Last year, maybe."

"Oh." So this was it, Remus thought. They had finally come to the conversation he had been dreading since saw Violet standing in his doorway the night before.

"You could have told me," she said quietly.

He looked down, suddenly unable to look her in the eye. "I didn't know that. How could I? How could I predict what your reaction would be? I still don't know what it would have been…before it happened to you, I mean."

"What do you think I would have done?" she asked. "Hurled insults at you and told you to stay away from me? That isn't like me. I thought you would have known that."

"Well, I didn't really _expect_ you to be angry or rude," he said, unable to keep the defensive edge from his voice. "But even if you accepted me for…for _what_ I am, you might have told someone. Even if it was just a friend you meant to confide in. And then if they told someone else…"

He knew from the look on her face that she understood. "I suppose that does make sense," she said, nodding. "But I don't think I would have told anyone. Not if it was something you told me in confidence."

Violet paused then, and Remus knew he should say something, something about last year; how the last few months, the ones he spent with Violet, had been some of the best of his life. How glad he was that she had accepted his company. How much he had wanted to be able to make things more official between the two of them, and his hesitancy to do just that. And, most importantly, how this thing that must be a great tragedy for her – her being attacked by Greyback – was suddenly opening doors for him that he had never dared to imagine. But he couldn't find the words. And that, of course, made him feel guilty. He fiddled with the corner of a napkin while Violet scraped butter over her toast, apparently unaware of his inner conflicts.

They walked together back out to the sitting room and sat on the couch again. Their empty mugs were still there from the night before.

"That stuff, that Wolfsbane, it did help. You were right," Remus said, gesturing at the cups.

Violet nodded. "I know. I don't have very much to compare it with, since I only had to do my first lunar cycle without it, but from what I remember of that one, it was much worse. I couldn't remember who I was, or…or _what_ I was." Her forehead was creased and she wore a slight frown, as if she was concentrating hard. "I still can't really make much sense of it. I remember what happened, of course, but it's like it was happening to something else, and I was trapped inside its body. But the fear was my fear. And the anger, that time. It was the first full moon after I was attacked. I was still so angry about what happened." Her frown deepened.

An uncomfortable silence grew again. "I don't know if Dumbledore told you, but it was Greyback who bit me, too. When I was four."

Her eyes widened. "Four," she whispered, amazed. "You've had to deal with this since you were _four_?"

Remus nodded. "Along with my parents. They did everything they could while I was little; though my transformations were easier to handle, then, since I was smaller. But they didn't think I would be able to come to school. I remember when my Hogwarts letter came, my dad wrote back to tell them I wouldn't be able to attend, and Dumbledore came to my house himself to talk to my parents and explain what he had arranged. My mum cried, she was so pleased." He was smiling now as he remembered, and when he looked back at Violet, she looked away quickly, blushing again, and hurriedly picked up a piece of toast and took a bite.

Still smiling, Remus took a bite of his own toast. Odd, but he felt better this morning than he ever remembered feeling after a transformation. He imagined it must have been the Wolfsbane. The two sat in comfortable silence as they finished their breakfasts. Remus eventually got up and took their old mugs back to the kitchen, rinsed them out with more water conjured from his wand, and filled them with pumpkin juice. Then he brought both cups back to the couch and handed one to Violet, who took it with a word of thanks.

"So…I guess now you know why I stopped writing to you," Violet said after taking a long sip. She was staring at the window; pinkish light was starting to filter in around the edges, making the dust moats glow in the air.

"Oh, yeah, I guessed that that was why. You said you've gone through three lunar cycles; that would mean that you were infected just after we left for the holidays."

"Yes," she agreed. "In fact, your first letter inviting me to visit arrived the day I got home from Saint Mungo's. I couldn't bring myself to answer. I was still angry, still feeling sorry for myself. And I was sure that you, and every other bloke, wouldn't want to have anything to do with me anymore."

That, Remus understood all too well. "And you asked earlier why I never told you about me…" he muttered.

"Indeed," Violet agreed.

They lapsed back into silence, which was broken a few minutes later by a faint snore. Remus looked over to find that Violet had fallen asleep, sitting upright on the couch. Even as he watched, her head swayed and fell to the side, and she jerked it back up straight, blinking blearing around at her. She saw Remus looking at her and brushed a strand of dark hair out of her face. "I'm sorry," she said, stifling a yawn. "I'm just so tired after last night."

"I understand," Remus said quickly. He was starting to feel the effects of the long night himself. "D'you—" he started, intending to ask her if she wanted to go back to her room to sleep, but before he could get the words out, Violet had scooted across the couch and leaned her head on his shoulder, pulling her legs onto the couch as she had done the night before and curling up against him. Remus smiled and rested his check against her hair. He put his arm around Violet's shoulders, pleased that this time it wasn't because she was crying.

They were awoken several hours later by a loud clatter. Violet jerked upright, peering around for the source of the commotion. Her eyes settled on the kitchen and Remus turned around to look too, blinking sleep out of his eyes. The house elf from that morning was back, standing in a circle of broken dishes and fallen cutlery with her hands over her mouth and her eyes wide. It looked as though she had tried to reach the counter with the serving tray by herself, but couldn't quite do it. "Begging your pardon, sir and miss!" she squeaked, seeing that they were awake. Violet got to her feet and hurried forward, making a movement as though to pick up a piece of broken flagon. Before she was halfway across the room, the elf snapped her fingers and at once the dishes soared into the air toward her, repairing themselves as they went. Seconds later, she stood carrying the serving tray again, everything back in perfect order, but looking terribly embarrassed. Violet took the tray from the elf and set it safely on the counter.

"I is sorry for the trouble, sir and miss," the elf said, bowing. "I was not wanting to wake you!"

"It's alright," Remus said, joining them in the kitchen and stretching his neck, which was sore from their nap. "What time is it, anyway, do you know?"

The elf nodded. She still looked quite horrified with herself. "It is just after twelve o'clock, sir. I is bringing you your lunch."

"Thank you," said Violet, taking the lid off the tray to look. There was a large bowl of beef stew and mashed potatoes, both of which, by either luck or magic, had not spilled when the tray smashed. The smell coming from the two dishes was quite wonderful. Violet breathed in and smiled, evidently in agreement with Remus. "It smells delicious. Did you make it?"

The little elf smiled and nodded.

"Say, what's your name?" Violet asked.

The elf looked taken aback at the question, but pleased. "My name is Lollys, miss."

"Lollys," Violet repeated, smiling again. "I think it suits you."

She smiled back. "Thank you, miss. I is needing to get back to the kitchens now." And she bowed low again and trotted through the living room and disappeared through the trap door.

Remus watched the exchange with a small smile. He was reminded forcibly of his first date with Violet in Hogsmeade the previous year. She seemed to have been on first-name basis with nearly every worker in every shop they went to, and she filled him in later on details about them that she had picked up in her years of visiting the village. She just had a knack of making friends with everyone she met. It was one of the first things that drew him to her in the first place. He watched her easy smiles with Lollys, and the way she put her at ease over an incident that had clearly embarrassed the elf. Even after Lollys' departure, he couldn't stop staring at Violet.

"What?" she finally asked, twisting the end of her pajama sleeve, self-conscious.

He pulled his eyes away from her, with difficulty. "Nothing. Sorry. You just…haven't changed."

"Well, I didn't want her to feel embarrassed," Violet explained. "Is she usually the one who delivers things here?"

"Er, I don't know," said Remus truthfully. "I don't usually see them. I typically just stay in my room during the day."

Violet rolled her eyes, but he was relieved to see she was smiling again. "So Lollys may well be the one who's been checking on you and bringing you meals for the past six years, and you have no idea?"

He returned her smile a little guiltily. "None at all."

She watched him for another moment, the corners of her lips still upturned. "Have you ever met any of the Hogwarts house elves before? They're fascinating; they know so much about the castle and its history."

Remus grinned wider. Of course Violet would have befriended the house elves. "I did meet one once; Portly, he was called. This was back in my fourth year. He showed us how to get into the kitchens for that exploding pudding prank."

Violet laughed. "I remember that. It was at the leaving feast. My mum said I still smelled of chocolate when she picked me up from King's Cross the next day."

Remus chuckled with her. "Sirius said the same thing about the rest of us; he said the smell was making him sick."

"Sirius doesn't like chocolate?"

He shook his head. "Never has."

"Huh," Violet said. She picked up a plate and a serving spoon and began dishing stew and potatoes onto it. "Hungry?" she asked when the plate was full, holding it out to him.

"Quite," Remus said, accepting the plate and grabbing a fork. When Violet had filled the second plate, they went back to the couch.

After a few minutes in which the only sounds were the scrape of their forks against plates and chewing, Violet peeked up at Remus through a curtain of hair. "So, your friends know? About you being a werewolf?"

He nodded. "Yeah, James, Sirius, and Peter do. They figured it out in our second year."

"How? Do you know?"

"Sirius and James made the connection during our Astronomy exam at the end of first year; it was a full moon, so I missed it. Then they did some reading up on lycanthropy over the summer holidays and started tracking my disappearances when we got back to school."

"And they really didn't care?" Violet asked. She looked nervous again, and Remus could understand why.

"No, they really didn't care. But they did start making a lot of really bad jokes about it. That's why they call me Moony."

She grinned. "I always wondered about that." She looked thoughtful for a moment then her smile turned wry. "Does that make me Moonette?"

Remus laughed. The sound echoed through the room in such a startling way that he was sure he had never had cause to laugh in this house before. "Maybe between just the two of us. I already told them I wouldn't tell them who the other werewolf was. Not that I think they'd tell anyone else," he added quickly.

Violet looked thoughtful again, brooding. "I wonder if any of my friends will figure it out."

"Are any of them taking Astronomy still? Or Divination or Arithmancy? Those are the only classes where the lunar cycle is important. I wouldn't really expect them to notice, otherwise. Just make sure you keep changing your story, and try to leave a little before the full moon and stay away a day or two afterwards, if you can. That way it won't follow such a precise 28-day pattern and you can pass it off as a coincidence if anyone does notice that you were gone for the full moon."

"Wow, you could write a book: _How to Hide Lycanthropy_ ," she said, chuckling.

Remus joined in. "And the tag-line: 'Deceiving your friends and loved ones, one conveniently timed bout of the flu and grandmother's death at a time.' Only you can only use that last one twice. I made that mistake once."

They both laughed at that. Seized by a sudden impulse, but sure it was the right thing to do, Remus reached out and grabbed Violet's hand. She froze for a moment, but then relaxed. She sank back against the couch and gave his fingers a small squeeze. When he chanced a glance back up at her, he saw that she was leaning her head against the back of the couch, her eyes closed and a content look on her face. He took the opportunity to study her again. The tension that had lined her forehead earlier was gone. Another faint blush colored her pale cheeks, lessening the dark circles under her eyes. He counted nine freckles across her nose.

She opened one eye and peeked at him. "Why do you keep staring at me?"

Another impulse. "Because, even after a night like last night, you look beautiful."

She smiled and sighed dramatically. "It's a gift and a curse." She opened both eyes and turned to look at him. "You know, you don't look so bad yourself, all things considered. I remember you sometimes used to look much worse last year, probably the days before and after the full moon."

"Oh. It must have been the Wolfsbane this time, then."

"Maybe," Violet agreed. "And thank you. For the compliment."

"You're welcome."

Remus smiled and closed his eyes, leaning his head against Violet's again.

The remainder of the afternoon passed in a similar fashion, and before long, Lollys reappeared with a tray of steaks, cooked rare.

"Thank you," Remus said to her, taking the tray from the elf as soon as she had climbed into the room from the tunnel below.

"You is welcome, sir," Lollys said. "Is there anything else I can be getting for sir and miss tonight?"

"No," Violet said. "But why don't you stay for a few minutes? You've come all the way from the kitchens, right? That must be a long walk to make just to turn around and walk all the way back."

Lollys hesitated, and Violet caught Remus's eye, giving him a meaningful look and gesturing to the elf with her head.

"Oh! Yes, please stay awhile. You can join us for dinner."

"Oh, no sir! I could never do that!" the elf squeaked, glancing around as though in fear of being overheard.

"It's okay, really," Violet said, sitting down cross-legged on the floor and putting a hand gently on Lollys' thin shoulder. "You can think of it as working, if it would make you feel better. You can tell us about this house! Do you know anything about it?"

The elf's large green eyes lit up. "Yes, yes I do, miss! My mother's masters lived here many years ago, before I was taking a job at Hogwarts, miss!"

Violet looked intrigued. "Really? Did you grow up here, then?"

"I did," the elf said, now nodding energetically, her large eyes shining.

Remus joined them on the floor and Lollys served them both steaks (waving down objections from them both), which they ate while they she explained the features and history of the house. Remus had to admit that he didn't know most of what the elf told them, even after regular visits to the house over the last six years.

"And upstairs, sir and miss, is the access to the attic. I can show you, if you would like?" said the elf, who seemed to be thoroughly enjoying herself now.

Violet and Remus looked at each other. Violet wore an excited expression which Remus was sure was _not_ reflected on his own face. The sun had set, and he was starting to feel the anxiety he always associated with the looming moon. But he hitched on a smile and got to his feet after Violet and Lollys and followed them into his bedroom. The elf bounced to the far wall and pushed the heavy wardrobe to the side with a strength he wouldn't have expected from her tiny frame. A small, elf-sized door was nestled behind it, its handle and hinges completely coated in rust.

"Doesn't look like it will open, does it?" Remus asked, but Violet kneeled down in front of it, grabbed the handle and yanked.

The door popped open with a screech and a shower of rust flakes. Violet glanced back at him, her eyes alight despite the growing shadows underneath, and she leaned forward to peer inside.

She had barely stuck her head halfway in when she gave a short scream and jerked backwards, losing her balance and catching herself with her hands. A bat flew out from the dark space with a screech, flapping through the very space Violet's head had been a moment before. It flew twice around the room and settled itself on top of one of the bedposts with another indignant screech. Violet and Remus looked at each other, and at Lollys (who looked quite shocked), and then burst out laughing.

When their laughter finally died down, Remus, Violet, and Lollys chased the bat back through the tiny door and into the attic, where they could hear the chattering of its fellows, likely waking up and readying themselves for a night of hunting. Lollys then bid them farewell and climbed back down the stairs and out through the tunnel, leaving Remus and Violet alone in Remus's room.

Violet glanced at the window and the dark sky peeking through the boards. "I should make us more tea," she said, and she went downstairs. Remus could hear her rattling around in the kitchen, and then the whistle of the kettle. He paced over to the edge of his bed and sat down. He could feel a familiar tremor in his spine that told him they had perhaps a quarter of an hour until the transformation started.

Soon Violet came back with two steaming mugs of the bitter tea. She placed them both on the end table and joined Remus on the bed. "So…what do you reckon for tonight, more of the same? Each in our own rooms?"

He was quiet for a moment, thinking. "I dunno. It might be safer, don't you think? I'd hate to, y'know, have a wolf-fight."

"I don't think we would, with the tea. You felt better last night, right? More in control of yourself?"

"Yes," Remus agreed. "But the Wolfsbane can only go so far, right?"

Violet didn't say anything for a couple of minutes. "So, we'll just do the same as last night, hide away and try to ignore each other's screams?"

Remus grimaced and glanced over at her. He was surprised to see the dark look in her eyes. "No, it's not that I'm trying to ignore you. It's just…" he trailed off, not exactly sure what to say.

"I can go. I'll be alright in my room," Violet said, standing up and reaching for her tea.

"No, please don't," Remus said. He grabbed her hand again and she stopped and looked back at him. "You're right, we should stay together." She still looked skeptical. "Please, I'd like you to stay."

Violet looked down at their joined hands and gave his a squeeze. Then she sat back down on the bed. They sat together in silence as the sounds of nighttime grew louder outside. The bats in the attic began swooping out, chattering and squeaking to each other in voices so high they could barely hear them. Then, as one, Remus and Violet sucked in a deep breath. Pain raced down his spine, and Violet's hand was suddenly a vice around his. He extricated his fingers with difficulty, and saw her fingers curl into a tight fist. "D—don't," he forced out, reaching over and trying to smooth her fingers open again. "Don't squeeze too hard. Your nails will cut into your palms." He had to gasp out every word as pain raced through his body and his limbs began to shake. He looked over at Violet through eyes narrowed in pain and saw that her face was twisted and her teeth gritted. She was trembling worse than ever.

Remus felt the shoulders in his pajamas rip and heard a tear of fabric coming from Violet's direction, but his eyes were now tightly shut, and he didn't have enough focus to worry about anything other than the agony. Violet let out a whimper of pain that turned into a drawn-out howl. Remus eventually gave himself over to the pounding in his head and the ache in his spine.

Their tea grew cold on the bedside table, quite forgotten.

Remus's hands knotted as pain shot down his neck. He gritted his teeth and groaned. His skin was crawling as the fur receded from his face and body, and his bones felt as though they were being bent to their breaking points, causing him to gasp in short, quick breaths.

He was laying halfway on and halfway off the bed, too tired to straighten up as he waited for the pain to recede and for his breathing to return to normal. But after another minute, his body relaxed. He took one last deep breath and let it out slowly and lay still and quiet.

But then, who was making that whimpering sound?

His eyes flew open. At the same time, he heard a rustling, and then –

"Oh, bloody hell. Oh _no!_ "

 _No,_ he thought to himself desperately. He clenched his eyes tightly shut again. _Please no. Please tell me that didn't happen. Please, please,_ please _no..._

But it was no use. The rustling next to him continued, and Violet let out another mumbled string of profanities that would have surprised him if he wasn't already so filled with dread.

Heart sinking, Remus opened his eyes and pushed himself shakily to rest of the way onto the bed. He took one more breath to steady himself, then looked over. Violet was sitting upright in a tangle of sheets, her knees tucked up to her chest and her head in her hands. From what he could see of it, he could tell her face was very pink.

"Please tell me," she said in a much higher voice than normal, "that I'm getting some weird wolfy mistranslation of memories from last night, and that we didn't really do… _that_."

Remus felt his own face go red and he didn't answer. He couldn't.

But Violet seemed to take his silence as answer enough. Se groaned again, but this time, he could tell it wasn't from pain. "Oh bloody hell. Bloody _hell!_ " she said again, ducking lower on the bed and pulling the sheet over her head.

He cast around desperately for something to say, something to reassure Violet, and to reassure himself, but his thoughts tangled and wrestled in his mind and the only thing he could focus on were the fragmented memories from the previous night, which he most definitely did _not_ want to think about. But he knew he had to say something. "At…at least we didn't have a fight?"

From under the covers, Violet let out a deep sigh. There was another shift, and he heard a muffled "bollocks."

"What?" he asked, worried for a moment that she had remembered something else, something he was still missing.

A beat of silence, then, "my clothes are shredded."

His face went redder, and he looked down. So were his. "Hold on," he said. "And, and stay there a moment; don't look."

"Okay," came Violet's voice, heavy with defeat.

Remus got up, ignoring the protest in his sore muscles. He grabbed some spare pajama pants from the dresser and pulled them on. Then he said, without turning back to the bed. "D–do you want me to get you something from your room?"

"No, don't bother," Violet said from beneath the sheets in the same defeated voice. "Just…hand me your dressing gown."

He walked to the door, ignoring the urge to keep walking, all the way out of the house, away from the school, and, ideally, to the other side of the country. Instead, he grabbed his robe from behind the door and went back to the bed. Violet reached out a pale arm and took it, and Remus quickly turned back around to give her some privacy.

He heard the rustle of sheets as she got up and slipped the robe around herself, and her footsteps as she crept downstairs. Her door closed.

Remus let out a deep sigh and sank onto the bed. He put his head in his hands and closed his eyes. All that happened then was another flash of memories from some point during the night, and he flung his head back up, stood, and began to pace. But after a few minutes, the nervous energy had done nothing to burn out. His brain still refused to process anything other than the night before and a well of fresh embarrassment. He stopped pacing, sank back onto the bed, and put a hand over his eyes as though to shield himself from the sudden realization: it was no use. He would have to talk to her.

The air seemed particularly still as Remus walked out into the hallway and down the stairs, as though the house itself was averting its gaze from their indecency and discomfort. Remus stopped outside Violet's door. There were no sounds from within the room. He stood, hesitating outside the door. He lifted a hand to knock, then let it fall again. And still, he didn't know what to do. Another endless moment of indecision; he clenched his fist and knocked gently.

"No," Violet answered at once.

Remus sighed and leaned his forehead against the closed door. "Violet, I think we need to talk."

Silence.

"We're going to have to talk about this eventually."

More silence, then, "Come in, then."

He pushed open the door. Violet was fully dressed, lying facedown on her bed with her face in the pillow. Her ears were still pink. He took a few steps into the room, but she didn't move or otherwise acknowledge his presence. He continued forward and made to sit on the bed, but Violet's said in the same high voice from earlier, "Maybe that's not such a good idea."

Remus looked over at her. She had lifted her face from the pillow and was turned towards him, watching. Their eyes met and she went a darker pink and buried her face once more in her pillow. "Okay," Remus agreed, and sat instead on the floor, his back against the bedframe, facing away from her. "Is that better?" He heard rather than saw her nod and roll onto her side so they were both facing the same direction.

"So…" he began, not entirely sure what he wanted to do with that sentence.

"So," Violet agreed. He was glad at least to hear that she sounded normal again.

"So," he tried again, forcing each word out in as casual and matter-of-fact voice as he could muster. "I think we both remember the same thing from last night. We had…we had, er, werewolf s—"

"If," her voice cut across his sharply, "you value my sanity, you will not finish that sentence. I know what happened. We both know what happened. And we can talk about it. Just…we don't have to…say it."

Remus agreed, relieved. He nodded, then realized she might not be able to see the movement, and said "Right. Good."

"So…" Violet said.

"So."

She sighed. "You can sit up here if you'd like, Remus."

"Okay," he agreed, and climbed onto the bed. Violet sat up and moved over to make room for him. They both scooted back until they were seated with their backs against the wall, facing the empty room, still not looking at each other. "I don't…I don't know if you remember everything the same was I do, but if you think I need to apologize, if you think I took advantage—"

"No," Violet said quickly. "Nothing like that. From what I remember it was a, erm, mutual decision."

Remus nodded, relieved. "That's what I remember, too."

Violet shifted against him. "And have you, er, ever done that before?"

"No," Remus said quickly. "I've never even had another werewolf around while I was transformed before. Well, besides the night before when we were in our own rooms." Another thought struck him, and his cheeks flooded with color again. "Or did you mean, have I ever done that as…myself."

"Oh! No, I didn't mean…I just meant as, you know, a wolf."

"Oh," Remus said, his face still red. "Well, it would be the same answer either way."

There was a pause. "It's the same for me, too," Violet said after a moment. "Both ways."

"Oh," Remus said again, having no idea what else to say.

"We didn't drink our tea last night," Violet observed.

"No, we didn't." Remus said. "Do you think that made a difference?"

Violet snorted. "Of course. We went from having no contact the first night to…well…"

"Full contact?" he suggested.

"Remus!"

"I'm sorry! I'm sorry, I just…" He fought a smile. "I couldn't resist."

"Do you know if that's…normal for werewolves? To do _that_ while they're transformed?"

"I dunno," Remus said. "Like I said, I don't have any experience with normal interactions between werewolves. I don't think I even know any other werewolves to ask."

Violet looked disappointed. "Well, you're the only werewolf I know, and if you've never heard…"

"Dumbledore said he did research on what would happen when werewolves transform together. I don't think he would have arranged for you to use the Shrieking Shack too, if he knew—"

"Oh, stop, stop!" Violet said, putting her hands over her ears and shaking her head as if to ward off his words. "I don't even want to _think_ about Dumbledore knowing about any of this!"

Remus couldn't help but smiling again, though he too was embarrassed. Violet's ears were still pink, but she lowered her hands and smiled back at him tentatively. "Do you think it might have anything to do with…how we feel about each other?" she asked after a moment.

He opened his mouth to reply, but at that moment, the trap door in the sitting room opened with a clatter and they heard the patter of small feet climbing into the room. "I is bringing your breakfast, sir and miss!" Lollys' voice called.

They jumped off the bed and hurried out of the bedroom, each slightly pink in the face again. Lollys was carrying another covered tray, which Violet took at once and set on the coffee table. Lollys filled two plates and handed them out, chatting happily all the while. She seemed much more sociable this morning, undoubtedly because of Violet's bonding efforts from the previous night. The little elf sat herself on one of the partially shredded armchairs and continued a few of her stories about the house, not seeming to notice the stilted responses from Remus and Violet. Remus picked at his food and let the elf fill in the silence. Violet, he noticed, was not making much progress on her breakfast either.

When they had eaten as much as they could force down, Lollys repacked the tray and Remus and Violet went back to their respective rooms to change before Madam Pomfrey arrived to collect them. Remus had just collected their cold mugs of tea from his room and brought them to the kitchen for a rinse when he heard her footsteps approach. The matron climbed into the room and turned, giving Remus such a searching look that he was sure for a moment that she knew everything that had transpired between himself and Violet in the past twelve hours. But after a moment, her face relaxed; in fact, he thought she actually looked pleased about something. "I don't see any new cuts or bites, Mister Lupin. I believe that is a first. And ah, Miss Gardener. Are you well?"

Violet had reentered the room, now back in her school robes. "Quite well, Madam Pomfrey."

"Any other injuries? Any complications?" she asked bustling forward and circling the two of them. They both shook their heads wordlessly, looking at the ground. Violet was starting to blush again, and when Remus caught her eye, he saw a slightly manic gleam, but Madam Pomfrey completed her inspection without further comment.

"Well, I must say I am impressed. I admit that I had my reservations when the headmaster suggested we send the two of you here alone to…but I digress…"

Violet was definitely blushing now, and, to his horror, Remus felt heat creeping up his neck, but the head matron didn't seem to notice anything and she lead them back up to the Hospital Wing without further comment. They would, Remus thought as they were climbing out of the tunnel underneath the Whomping Willow, have to find another plan for the next full moon.

Ten minutes later, Remus made his way up the staircase to his dormitory, turned around as he closed the door, and leaned his forehead against it. He wanted nothing more than to sleep for the next several hours. Hopefully, James, Sirius, and Peter would already be in the Great Hall for breakfast and the dormitory would be empty. That would give him some time to come up with an innocuous story to tell his friends; undoubtedly, they would be want to hear what had transpired, which Remus absolutely did _not_ want to discuss. Talking about it with Violet had been bad enough, and she already knew what happened. He didn't even want to think about what they would say if they knew that he—

"So," said a voice. Remus whipped around. James, Sirius, and Peter were awake, staring owlishly at him from their beds. "How did it go?" James asked.

"I had sex!" Remus blurted out.

The dormitory went silent. Then, as one, James, Sirius, and Peter began clapping and wolf-whistling. The sound bounced around the circular room, pounding in Remus's ears as color once again filled his face. He crossed to his bed and flopped down, hiding his face in his pillow as Violet had done that morning.

"Good job, mate!" Sirius said. He sounded rather proud.

"Congratulations!" James added.

Remus turned his head slightly to glare at them with one eye. They were hanging out of their beds, watching him, still grinning.

"Oh, Mister Moony," Peter began in a breathy, high-pitched voice. "Thank you so much for teaching me how to be a good werewolf. How can I ever repay you?" He fluttered his eyelashes.

Remus scowled and buried his head again.

"You must be quite the charmer, Moony," said Sirius. "Because we've seen you between transformations, and no offense, but you're not much to look at."

"That must be why he stayed at the Shrieking Shack yesterday," James said wisely. "We expected you to come back and tell us how annoying Werewolf Junior was. But it sounds like you had a better time there than you would have had here."

He mumbled something into his pillow.

"Didn't quite catch that, mate," Sirius said.

Remus lifted his head from the pillow. "I said it wasn't yesterday. It was…last night."

Sirius and James stopped grinning. Peter looked puzzled. "But…last night…"

"I know," Remus muttered, face back in his pillow.

"No," Peter tried again. "Last night, you would have been…you were…"

"Yeah," Remus agreed with a sigh. "I was."

The dormitory fell silent. Nobody spoke. Remus was just starting to think that his friends were going to just let the subject drop, then…

"So, I'm guessing it wasn't a first year?"

Remus grabbed his pillow and lobbed it toward the voice. He heard Sirius grunt as the pillow hit him. "Of course it wasn't a first year! She's…she's about our age." He had almost said that she was a sixth year, but he didn't want to help his friends figure out that it was Violet.

Sirius nodded, seemingly satisfied. "And I suppose it is a _she_ , right?"

" _Yes!_ " He threw another pillow, which struck home.

"So," said Peter. "Who was it?"

Remus frowned. "If I wasn't going to tell you before, I'm certainly not going to tell you _now_."

"No, mate," James said to Peter, giving Remus an appraising look. "Moony is a gentleman, he wouldn't kiss and tell."

Peter giggled. "And if he won't kiss and tell, he certainly wouldn't—"

"Yes, _thank you_ , Wormtail!" James said sharply, cutting him off as Remus groaned again.

Silence once more filled the circular room. No one made eye contact. Then—

"So…how was it?"

"I'm running out of pillows to throw, Padfoot!" Remus rolled over on his side and put his arms around his knees, glaring at the wall. He heard a chuckle coming from the direction of Sirius's bed.

Remus heard the rustle of blankets, then footsteps, and James flopped down on the end of his bed. "Come on, Moony, talk to us. How did she take it, then, when you were both back to normal?"

He sighed and rolled over to face the top canopy on his bed, running a hand through his sandy brown hair. "She was mortified. We both were. But I suppose it could have been worse. She wasn't _angry_ ; she didn't blame me, or anything like that."

"That's good," James agreed. He seemed more comfortable now that they were straying away from the nocturnal activities. Remus could relate.

"At least tell us what year she's in," Peter pressed.

Remus glared at him again. "No."

"What are you going to do for the next full moon? Are you going to be together again?" James said. Then, realizing the implication, hastened to add: "I mean, together in the Shrieking Shack. In the same space. Just…both as werewolves in separate rooms in the same building."

Remus shook his head. "She said she's going to make arrangements to leave the school from now on. She already told Dumbledore when we got back to the Hospital Wing."

"Will you tell us what House she's in?" There was a hint of a whine in Peter's voice.

" _No_ , Peter!"

"But she didn't tell Dumbledore _why_ , right?" James sounded horrified by the very idea. Remus could relate.

"Of course not! I can't imagine discussing _any_ sort of… _activities_ with Dumbledore, much less…"

James winced at the very thought. Sirius was staring intently at Remus.

"Come on, Remus. At least tell us if it's someone we know!" Peter was practically begging now.

"For the last time, Wormtail, I'm not telling you who—"

Sirius was still watching him. "It was Violet Gardener," he said.

Remus stared at him for a what he belatedly realized was a beat too long. "Wh-what? Why would you think it was V-Violet? It…it isn't Violet. It was…someone else. Someone who isn't Violet. That's ridiculous…Violet…it's not…it isn't…not not…Violet…" His stammers dwindled into an incoherent mumble and he stared down at his knees. To his horror, he felt his cheeks grow pink again.

When he looked back up at Sirius, he was wearing a grin so big his cheeks looked like they might crack. "It _is_ Violet Gardener, isn't it?"

Remus clenched his jaw and gave a quick, jerky shake of his head.

Sirius grinned wider. When Remus chanced a glance at James, he saw that he was now grinning too. Peter looked eagerly between Remus and the other boys, glee growing in his watery eyes.

His friends watched him for another moment, smiles still growing perceptibly as Remus tried desperately to come up with something to say. Then his shoulders sank. He slumped back against his headboard and put his face in his hands again.

"I knew it!" Sirius cried.

"How on Earth did you guess?" Remus said, glaring at his friend from between his fingers.

"Easy," Sirius said smugly. "You're obviously still mad for Violet – don't deny it –" he added quickly, for Remus had opened his mouth to retort. "I know for a fact that Evelynn Wimble asked you to go to Hogsmeade at dinner last week, and not only did you turn her down, as soon as she left, you looked down the table to Violet to see if she had heard. She hadn't, by the way; she was too busy watching Merrick Edgecomb trying to eat his soup with his hands." They stared at him. "Confundus Charm. I may or may not know who was responsible for casting it. Anyway, if the other werewolf had been anyone else, you would be feeling guilty for 'running around' on Violet without resolving things with her first. And you always wring your hands when you're feeling guilty, and you haven't once. Plus, Violet's friend Margaret Cattermole mentioned yesterday that she had gone home to visit her 'sick aunt,' but Margaret thought that _Violet_ was the one who looked sick, and, well, let's just say I'd heard that one before."

Sirius crossed his arms, triumphant.

Remus cast about for a response. All he came up with was: "Why were you talking to Margaret Cattermole about Violet?"

Sirius rolled his eyes dramatically. "Well, I didn't intend to talk to her about much of anything. There we were in the broom cupboard on the third floor. One minute we're snogging, and the next she's yammering about her friend."

"Tough break, Padfoot," James said with a sympathetic nod to Sirius. "However, I don't think we were discussing your bad luck in the romance department. I think we were discussing Remus, er, getting lucky."

Remus leaned his head back at these words. "I don't feel very lucky," he mumbled. "And I don't want to talk about this anymore!"

"Alright, alright," James agreed, rolling his eyes and smirking. "New topic. Anyone?"

Sirius raised his hand, and James nodded at him.

"Petition to rename the 'Shrieking Shack' the 'Love Shack.'"

" _Sirius!_ "

 **Author's Note** : Hello again. I hope you enjoyed reading this as much as I enjoyed writing. I want to explain the title here, now that it won't give anything away. Fred Schneider is the lead singer in the band The B-52's, which released the song Love Shack. I'm bending real-life cannon here to make the song reference fit, since it wasn't actually released until 1989 and the events in this story would have been in 1977.

Also, fun fact: werewolf trysts are actually canon to the HP universe. JKR mentions in a Pottermore ebook that such an incident is the basis for the rumors of werewolves in the Forbidden Forest.


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